Kaze no Uta
by Against.The.Current
Summary: Femininity is not weakness. Courage does not exist without fear. Hope is lost the moment you stop fighting. A grittier take on the 'girl falls into another world' trope.
1. Whistle While You Work

Chapter One

Whistle While You Work

* * *

_I am the one voice in the cold wind, that whispers  
And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky..._

-Josh Groban, Remember Me.

* * *

Claire had been missing from her regular life for more than two weeks now. The last of her glitter polish had flecked off her nails, her hair hung in straggly blonde clumps and she desperately wanted to shave her legs and underarms.

If not for the fact that there were lemurs with bat wings flying about a crumbling temple, show-casing paintings of people and animals that controlled the winds, Claire would be a hysterical wreck and would probably have pitched herself off the mountain in the attempt to climb down while still dizzy from the altitude.

That was probably ironic or something.

This place belonged on Saturday morning _Nickelodeon_, Claire watching TV curled up on the couch with a bowl of corn flakes which would inevitably go soggy in the bowl because after the first few minutes she forgot to eat.

Claire loved that show, had bought the box sets even after watching the series twice and the DVDs had pride of place in her collection, no small feat since they were just about the only things of the shelf that weren't produced by _Disney _or _Pixar_.

Bending was like magic and there were spirits and strange creatures and a wonderful cast of characters with complex interaction between one another on screen. The hope of being part of that action was what kept Claire going, gave her something to focus on. Because without a way home or a clue as to how she even got here, Claire needed a little happiness to draw upon.

Unfortunately, even if _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ had been Claire's first choice of fictional vacation (it was Atlantis from _The Little Mermaid_ followed closely by peace-time Narnia actually), then this was certainly not how she pictured it happening.

She was filthy, sick of eating fruit from the over-grown orchards and she couldn't just leave those skeletons lying about above ground.

They weren't animals, it wasn't right. Even if Aang was supposed to see his people like this, even if the Gaang had been and gone already, there was no reason to leave them like this. As there was no guru, upside-down architecture, or people on gliders she was sure this was the Southern Temple- probably the worst place to end up at outside of the Boiling Rock. Except maybe the Northern or Western Temples when they got attacked in the cartoon... or Ozai's throne room. Or inside an erupting volcano.

Come to think of it, Claire supposed there were a _lot_ of places worse than where she had ended up. That didn't mean she _enjoyed_ being the only living person atop an eerie mountain though, which at night looked and felt like something out of a horror movie.

Claire found a shovel in a shed off the orchards and what might have once been fields. Although it had been covered in cobwebs (Claire did a freak out jig when a weird spider/fly thing flew at her face), the wood wasn't rotted through and there was only a little rust, she was lucky. Really.

Fifteen days, give or take, she had been digging graves and dragging the thankfully stripped clean corpses to the old fields, where the ground was still the most workable even after all this time.

It was exhausting work (not like going to the gym for an hour or two) because this was under the hot sun, currently competing with the altitude on the temperature front so that one moment she was baked from exertion and the next the sun would disappear behind a cloud and she would be shivering all over. The graves were shallow, clumped close together to save room and all marked with a patch of cloth or ornament, staked to the ground above their heads in lieu of a name.

Claire couldn't stop until she was exhausted at the end of the day and even then, dropping off wasn't easy, staring up at the ceiling of what hadn't been a bedroom in decades. Where a child once slept.

The Fire Nation soldiers were put in a separate field and it was harder to piece together all of their -Claire swallowed bile the first time she realised- body parts. Although the monks had been burned and it showed, the soldiers were often torn apart, their skulls crushed inside helmets or against walls. The power of a hurricane can do that. So can airbending monks, apparently.

She had cried more than once, sometimes just breaking down in the middle of her task, curling up into a ball and rocking herself in the little ditch which would soon house an even littler kid's body. But even in the face of such slaughter, on both sides but particularly the monks', Claire couldn't bring herself to hate any of the attackers. Nazi Germany was once a country full of frightened people, pumped full of propaganda which was easier to believe than defy. If Sozen was anything like Ozai, the Fire Lord wouldn't have taken conscientious objectors well. It painted her history classes in a whole new light because the effects were right in front of her.

She missed her parents, her friends, even her dog. If just one of them was here now, Claire would have someone to hug, to comfort and be comforted by, someone to talk to because the lack of conversation was driving her mad.

There were good days too, when Momo's cousins (and maybe Momo himself) let her get close enough to pet them when they sunned themselves on the rocks. They were very affectionate critters, when she was calm, as they seemed to know instinctively to stay away from her in one of her manic moods. If she'd gotten a hold of one of them during one of her good long cries she would have blubbered all over the poor thing. Even Fiero only bore that sort of thing out of long suffering loyalty to her and he knew to disappear when she watched sad movies. Smart dog.

Finally, on day thirty-nine or so (Claire wished she had started keeping track sooner), every room and courtyard was cleared of death. Even the most fragile bodies were carried out on sheets to keep the bones together, the tallest soldiers with the heaviest armour proving difficult but not impossible to manoeuvre without the weight of flesh.

It was with a small (bitter) sense of pride that Claire looked upon the fields, little pieces of cloth fluttering in the breeze or charms and helmets rattling away where she had staked or half-buried them in place.

Claire would be the first to admit that she would have given up halfway through if she had anywhere else to go, anything else to do, but now, looking out at the uneven rows of fresh turned earth, she was glad for what she had done.

"Well," she croaked, speaking for the first time in days, "I think you deserve some flowers, don't you?"

* * *

It was laundry day! Or rather, it was a day sunny enough that Claire could bear to, well, bare for a bit while her clothes dried. The robes in the temple were moth-eaten and musty as anything, though there had been a couple of garments tucked away in chests which had survived the worst damage. These she had washed sometime previously and these were the only alternatives to her comfy modern clothes.

"I don't really like orange and I've never worn much yellow before," Claire chattered away at a curious lemur who watched her dunk her grey skinny jeans into the river and scrub them with grit from between the rocks. "But they don't look too bad on me, do they?"

The lemur cocked its head and chittered. Claire hoped that was complementary in lemur-speak.

"I am never going to get these stains out of my socks without detergent. Wish I hadn't worn white ones." The blonde pinned the now mostly grey socks under some pebbles to soak so they wouldn't float away. "And don't get me started on my unmentionables. I'm just glad I realised my period was due in time to get my panties off." _That _had been uncomfortable and she spent most of the three days downstream, periodically washing her stripped lower half far beyond the point where she washed clothes and even further from the fast flowing bit she drank from. Yuck. She had torn some cloth strips for next month, but was still puzzling over how exactly she would use them. What did women _do_ before Tampax?

Her lilac cotton cardigan and dark purple t-shirt soon joined the rest of her pinned clothes, the last article being her much abused Minnie Mouse girl boxers and black sports bra. Hopefully the combination of grit-scrubbing and gentle river-bobbing would be almost as good as a go in the washing machine.

Oh, who was she kidding?

"Want to get something to eat, little guy? I feel like nuts." It was that or fruit and she was sick to death of fruit.

The lemur leapt to her orange-clad shoulder and began paying with her hair. Playing or looking for bugs. Ew.

"You know, I think I'll name you." Claire stroked behind the animal's ears which were dappled with dark brown spots. "You don't look like Momo so even if he hasn't left yet I wouldn't be messing up the story. Now, what to call you..."

A character name was her usual MO, Fiero being her second dog named for someone from a musical. "Don't even know if you're a boy or girl." Claire disentangled those little fingers from her hair in order to get a grudging, wriggling look. "Well, you don't have any obvious bits, I think you're a girl." Said girl chittered irritably, giving something approximate to a head toss before Claire put her back on her perch with easy access to the ever-fascinating hair.

"I think I'll call you Roxy. Probably no connection to the Roxy from _Chicago_ but the name suits you anyway. Roxy, meet Claire. Claire, Roxy." She laughed when Roxy shook the proffered hand, looking for food and disappointed not to find any. It was something straight out of _Pocohontas._

"C'mon, let's get those nuts I promised you, some of the types growing here aren't half bad."

* * *

The weather had taken a turn for the worse, it was truly, _bitterly_ cold and the sudden, frequent gusts were enough to bowl her over. It was all she could do to gather up some food off the trees and bushes before that too was blown away. Inside the eerie, draughty temple which Claire had done her best to avoid unless she was sleeping, the girl curled up with her lemur friends and waited out the storm.

"Drip, drip, drop / Little April shower / Beating a tune as you fall all around..." Claire sang softly, trying to distract herself from the persistent draft which blew into every cranny of the cavernous temple.

The lemurs listened with interest as she ran through the _Bambi_ number and when they didn't seem to mind she sang another, and another.

* * *

"The bare necessities of life will come to... you!" Claire tossed the apple in the air and Roxy swooped to catch it, squeaking happily as she dug into it mid-flight. Soon the others were clamouring to join in the game too.

* * *

It was quite probable that Claire was going ever so slightly crazy.

She had run through every song she knew off by heart (which was a _lot_) more times than she could count and the lemurs had actually started _humming along with their favourites_. In her mind she was Pocohontas, Aurora or Snow White with an orchestra of little forest friends... the fantasies kept her mind occupied when she wasn't was going through the now familiar routine of washing, feeding and general grooming. That took more time than usual, because there was no soap, and because Claire didn't really have anything else to do so there was no point in hurrying.

Her hair was all tiny braids now, the same way she used to do Mikela's hair back home, tied off with strips of yellow and orange cloth and the maintenance of them kept her occupied for a little while each day. Claire also sang and even brushed up on her ballet forms, now suffering from almost four years of rust. No TV, or books, nobody to talk to (who could talk back), what else could she do?

She could try climbing down the mountain, even without rope or the courage and skill to use a glider. It might even be possible without falling to her death.

But if it wasn't, she would be dead, crushed at the bottom. Speared on sharp spikes. Dead like all those people she had buried up here, whom she had laid flowers for and prayed for. Dead.

Claire shivered and thought of a happy song, singing until her throat was raw from it.

* * *

There was a hundred years of dust and grime in this place, but the brushes and buckets still worked. Not much else to do but drag up some water (pretend she was Cinderella) and get to work. She had stopped wearing her nice modern clothes most days because they just got burrs and mud on them. Just as well, because by the time she was done with a fraction of the rooms, she needed another bath in the stream.

* * *

Another storm came and took her by surprise with the ferocity of it. Claire was climbing one of the peach trees, so that she and her concerto would have something to eat while they waited out the miserable weather inside. That's when it happened.

A sudden gust caught her off guard, blowing Claire out the tree with what might have been the wind backhanding her for the sheer force of the attack.

Claire screamed, flinging her arms backward as she fell, the peaches scattering with wet, sickly crunches to the balcony below. She cringed, her eyes closed tight as she waited for the crash.

None came.

"I'm floating." Claire breathed in wonderment, looking down at the ground. The spell broke and she fell the last couple of feet, smacking her head on the stone slabs. "Oow..."

Headaches aside, this development needed careful consideration.

* * *

"I can do magic!" Claire twirled, hugging a patiently exasperated Roxy. "Oh it's not turning into an animal or travelling through time but still, it's _magic_, Roxy!"

Roxy bore the spinning a minute longer before wriggling from Claire's grasp and going to perch on one of the statues of monks long past, her head visibly spiralling before she flopped over onto the bust.

"I wonder how to make it work- I mean. I don't know martial arts, but there must be more to it than just that or everyone could be a bender." She bit her lip as she tried to remember how Aang had stood in the cartoon, how his hands and arms had moved. "Like... this?" Claire pushed the air with a sideways motion, alternating the angle of her wrists so that her open palms swayed side to side.

Nothing. No more breeze than her hands would normally create by moving through the air.

"Maybe I have to move my feet too?" She didn't have the shoes to go _en pointe_ and the reason why she had quit in the first place was so her aching ankles wouldn't become a more serious problem in the future, more than they were at fourteen. She settled for a _f__ouetté en tourna__nt _without going fully up onto her toes. Although it was impossible to get her leg as high as she once had and her spin wobbled the first few times, she repeated the motion until the twirl was tight and her arms high both when splayed and when held close to her chest.

Concentrating on the far wall, although by this point quite dizzy, Claire pushed her palms outward on the spin, kicking her raised leg in the same direction. Stumbling, Claire righted herself before she fell flat on her face and sneezed when a strand of dust-laden cobweb landed on her nose.

Wait, what?

Claire looked up, squinting through the falling dust particles and saw no disturbance, no lemurs or birds or anything to have caused the debris to fall. "Okay... that's good, but it would be nice if I could aim this thing."

* * *

A depressive undertow Claire hadn't realised she was gripped by started to ease with a new sense of fulfilment. Now there was something to do, something interesting and new which felt like a real accomplishment every time she managed to do something else: a stronger gust, less movement for a similar effect- no matter how small an improvement it was heartening.

The rock had once been part of the outer wall, a rough boulder of bricks still clinging together even after all these years. It came up to her waist in height and was too high for her to jump up onto without using her hands.

Claire hadn't tried to bend herself into the air before, not counting the incident that brought the ability to her attention, but today she was going to try.

A spin, like the ones she had done before, but instead of aiming the air upwards she would direct it to the ground then corkscrew upward on the draft. In theory.

"Here goes."

The miniature twister of wind lifted her up with such gusto that Claire panicked, her arms and feet freezing in an awkward splay. A moment later, the wind dropped suddenly away and she ended up slumped over the stone, her own wind knocked out of her.

Panic, blinding panic as she found she could neither inhale nor empty her lungs, Claire pounded her chest, rolling onto her back and staring up at the sky like it was the last thing she would ever see. Suddenly there was air, delicious air and she lay there gasping as a few tears trickled out unbidden.

Roxy sniffed about her face, chirping questioning. Claire laughed brokenly as she petted her friend's ears. "Yeah, I don't think I'm ready for rocks yet."

* * *

"There's still grain growing here, though I don't know what type it is." Claire eyed the golden husks warily. "Maybe I could grind it into flour somehow, though I don't know if I could make bread from it." Bread needed flour, water, yeast... probably other things too. Eggs? Or was that for pasta? At any rate, she might be able to make a flat bread if she had something to cook it in.

Easier said than done.

Not only did the only oven with a working chimney have a bird's nest in it (no eggs though, she didn't feel _too_ guilty about getting rid of it), but she had no idea how to make a fire even after scrubbing the ancient appliance out. There was lots of dead wood lying about, though it was harder to find some that wasn't damp from the recent rain (with this in mind, she stacked some branches inside to dry) but there was no kindling. Newspaper is what she would have used to start a barbecue (although her dad had always done that job) and there were no matches. Digging through the kitchen cabinets, Claire found a few stones that looked like green flint and, with a slow-to-be-born epiphany, hit them together.

Sparks.

Her stomach rumbled at the thought of something different to eat and that was enough to push her onwards.

The first attempt was... interesting to say the least. Even after hours of gathering the dried seeds and confirming that, yes, they did contain flour, grinding them in a big mortal and pestle and finally sieving out the husks, there was very little to show for her labours. When she mixed it on the counter top like she's seen those TV chefs do, it had all stuck to the table and even after remembering that you needed to dust the work surface first and scraping the mixture off the polished stone it was never quite right. Dusting or no dusting.

Claire huffed, blowing a flyaway out her face and put her first attempt at flat bread in the oven. It had taken her almost an hour of near-tear frustration to get the fire started and keep it going hot enough. It seemed a waste only cooking one thing in such a huge oven but she was only one person and her flour (now stored in a recently scrubbed pot) had been hard won.

Dry, tasteless, burnt. The bread needed salt, crunchiness on the outside and a warm, moist centre- naturally it lacked all three.

It was still the most delicious thing Claire had ever tasted.

* * *

It had come over her suddenly; a shaky, sweaty flush of heat which left her cold as it fell away momentarily before returning with a vengeance.

Claire clawed her way out of sweat-soaked sheets and stumbled to the section of river she used for drinking water, but found that her arms couldn't take the strain of a full bucket any more. She dragged it half empty to her bedroom and left to retrieve an empty pail this time, just in case. Claire swayed on the way back, her legs collapsing out from under her as her vision blurred at the corners.

The wall was a welcome support and without it she might not have know up from down; directional awareness became essential a moment later when she tasted something unpleasant in the back of her throat.

As she hunched over that bucket in an empty corridor of an equally desolate temple, Claire knew she might die. Not because she felt like she was throwing up half her digestive system, not because her eyes and nose were streaming and she felt truly disgusting and sorry for herself, no. Claire knew she might die beyond that self-indulgent pity she had so often employed back on Earth.

Back home, Claire had her parents to hold her hair back when she was sick and give her a stick of gum to wash the taste away. Last year when Claire had a stomach bug, her dad had made her peppermint tea and stayed home that day to watch all of the Muppet movies with her. On Earth, Claire had always had someone to fall back on, whether it was her parents, doctor or the local pharmacy. She would mope about and feel miserable for a few days, but she was treated like a princess while she got better.

There was no medicine here, no doctors to consult and no one to watch Claire to make sure she didn't faint down a flight of stairs or choke on her own vomit. Being sick was no longer a nuisance but a very real danger.

Roxy had returned from wherever she had been roaming and although she sneezed in distaste the lemur didn't leave. Claire smiled despite herself, leaning back on her heels as she tried to hold back her hair while still hugging the bucket.

"I would kill for a tick-tac." Claire joked weakly before another wave hit her.

Claire was sick for three days, in that time she could barely stand without wanting to throw up and slept often yet fitfully. More than once, Claire awoke to find fruit or nuts on her pillow and a furry warmth wrapped around her neck.

"Good girl.," Claire croaked, rubbing Roxy's ears. "Good, good girl."

* * *

How long had she been here? Six months give or take. She was lucky it didn't snow, it being so high up here, the chill have taken some getting used to in the beginning but it would be a whole different story if there was a blizzard.

As always when she knelt by the graves, Claire wasn't sure what to say. "I don't know if you can hear me, or if you speak the same language I do, no matter what the cartoon says. Not even sure how to hold my hands." They were held palms together, maybe she was supposed to clasp them but she had never been good at history or religious studies or anything like that.

"I hope you're at peace," Gyatso's grave had pride of place beneath a plum tree and she had marked his resting place with his iconic necklace which none of the other monks had duplicated exactly. "Aang will visit soon I'm sure, if I came before him or he will come after, I know he'll visit some time. Wonder what he'll think about what I've done to the place." Her cleaning skills were sub-par, especially without soap, and her graves too shallow but it was _something_. Even if there were never enough flowers to put on the graves and she'd started leaving just one bunch for each side of the conflict and changing them out when they withered.

Claire took a moment to enjoy the breeze, which felt more alive than it ever had at home and wondered, not for the first time, if she was going to end up like that crazy healer cat lady.

"So, do you have any pointers for those gliders of yours?"

* * *

On all accounts, she was too big for the gliders, skinny though she may have been even before her fruitarian diet, she was still several inches too tall for the majority of the gliding staffs.

But those few moments where she managed to soar before dropping to the ground had been...

Magical.

* * *

It was two hundred and eighty nine days since Claire started counting the passage of time. True, she had missed a few days and started late, but rounding it up it was probably not much more than three hundred days.

Almost a year.

No one to talk to, except the lemurs and the graves of monks, soldiers and children. Nothing to do but wander the halls looking for good acoustic areas and (when her voice ran out) look at the murals on the walls and pretend she knew what the stories were about. Or fail at bending. Or wonder where her next meal was coming from (and make it edible) and do little, inconsequential things like wash and braid her hair.

Claire thought, once, that she knew what boredom meant. When there was nothing good on TV, when the books assigned for class were written a gazillion years ago, when she couldn't beg enough money out of her parents to go to the theatre or out with friends for two weekends in a row.

Right now, Claire would kill for one boring weekend with her parents, traipsing around carrying camera stands while hiking up stupid hills at ungodly hours to find 'the best light'. To see a musical done badly. To go to school and sit through a million mind-numbing science classes. Anything to get her off this mountain.

She wouldn't even go near the cliff edges here, where the balcony rails just fell away in some places, not because they had crumbled away but because the monks hadn't needed them in the first place. For them, falling had been _fun_.

And at the rate she was going, Claire would never manage to get good enough at manipulating wind to fly down the cliff, or even pluck up the courage to attempt more than little jumps.

More and more, lately, there had been days where she did nothing but cry in her room.

* * *

"I wish there was more wheat up here." Claire moaned around her latest batch of flat bread, which tasted so much better than her first attempt. "Even fruit is yummier when you cook it in bread." Although cooked fruit was a nice change, as was dried (though that hadn't gone well the first few times either), nothing could counteract the huge amounts of natural sugar that Claire consumed everyday. It may not have been making her fat, not with exercise and the fact it was a good kind of sugar, but it had other ramifications beyond mind numbing boredom.

She had learned early on to fashion a sort of toothbrush from wooden fibres- like when you chewed too long on a popsickle stick and the orange wood came apart. You could get your teeth pretty clean with one of those and although Claire's twigs (a new one twice a day!) didn't taste nice, she hadn't gotten any holes in her teeth yet, though sometimes they felt more delicate and ached.

"Damn fruit."

Roxy twittered around her plum.

* * *

A year (or thereabouts). Fifty two weeks (give or take a couple). Three hundred and sixty(ish) days.

If this mountain had normal weather, as in four seasons and a wickedly cold winter (like a mountain top was supposed to have) then Claire would have died inside of six months.

But the trees bore fruit in cycles which had little to do with weather. The only seasons were when it stormed and when it didn't, though there were warmer and rainier days too, it hadn't snowed once.

Temperate climate aside, Claire worried about being snowed in for months on end without anything to eat. Harvesting fruit and berries to dry, nuts and grain and dead wood to store- it gave her a sense of security. Like she could live here, instead of just survive.

The illusion held only for as long as she kept her eyes closed. When Claire opened them, saw the death and solitude, saw that the hums which joined her in song did not come from human beings, she felt something drop into her stomach. Every time.

She thought it was her heart.

* * *

Claire talked to the graves everyday that she could drag herself out of self-pity and although she had only spoken to the airbenders originally, it wasn't fair to the soldiers to not talk to them when she brought them flowers.

"I suppose you like the sunshine, don't you? 'Rise with the sun' and all that? Must be nice, I could never get up for school in time. It doesn't really matter now, since I don't have anywhere to be, but I'm always awake when it gets dark and I hate it. I miss a lot of sunrises too, since it's even more difficult to get up most mornings now."

Claire sighed.

"I should be happier. Some time soon I'm going to go on a great adventure and help save this fantastic new world, or will get to explore it without worrying about war and people trying to kill one another but- it's taking a really long time, you know?"

She gathered some soil in her hand, dry from lack of recent rainfall, and let it trickle out of her grip like sand in an hourglass.

"You must think I'm such a brat. At least I'm alive, right?"

The joke fell flat.

"I wish someone would hurry up and get here. Even if there's no adventure, anything is better than staying here forever. And nothing- nothing would be better than going home right now."

She winced at how horrible that sounded.

"Yeah, that's something we have in common..."

* * *

It was weird having a river this big constantly flowing down the mountain. Rainfall might add to it a bit, but really, there was no way a river this wide and fast flowing could keep up with the constant pull of gravity.

Except it did.

Although Claire had been content to leave it at 'it's magic' up until now, she was worried that she might be drinking the same water that she washed and... _relieved _herself in. It didn't take a genius to figure out that was a _very bad thing_.

The pulley system, tucked away in a bit of the temple she hadn't found before, was an amazing feat of engineering and Claire was afraid to touch it lest she break it somehow. Buckets pulled water up from an underground stream below and poured onto a well worn grove in the mountainside, ending up in the river.

The problem was, did the water filter through the rocks below and get out all the nasty things that could make her sick, or did it slip back into the underground cavern without filtering?

From that day onward, however belated the decision may have been, Claire started boiling all her drinking water on a camp fire outside (because the oven was one thing, that weird-looking stove quite another). She also got her shovel out again, after a long period of disuse.

She dug far, far away from the graves.

* * *

If Claire was a little thinner, a little rougher 'round the edges and by far a more self-sufficient young woman than when she came to the temple then it impacted her only on an abstract level. Personalities are so dependant on the influence of other people, by reflecting on them we can judge our own evolution.

Her parents might have commented on how much more mature she acted, her friends on the odd moments that Claire found herself laughing at nothing, simply because there was no one to hear her and she needed something to break the silence. They would have said that she seemed both older and younger for the ordeal.

Interaction at this stage would rock her off her feet, back to the person she was before all this mess, if only for a little while, in little ways.

That was why, on one fateful sunny day (four hundred and twenty seven days after records began) that Claire ran as fast as her feet could carry her.

* * *

**A.N.: **Well, this is it. Finally posted. Still not entirely satisfied or sure where I'm going with the story overall, but plot follows character I suppose.

Claire is very different from the OCs I normally write so I would love to hear what you think of her and her situation. I'm really trying to mess with a lot of the overused tropes found in both Disney works and stories of this genre. The main tropes are: _**Extremely Short Timespan**_, _**Friend of All Living Things**_, _**Beauty is Never Tarnished**_ and _**The Pollyanna **_in this chapter. -You can find all these clichés on tvtropes, hopefully I've put a good twist on them or subverted them entirely.

Since some problematic issues are mentioned in this chapter, I would like to state for the record that Claire is a character and she in no way necessarily reflects my thoughts or feelings on historical or even hypothetical/imaginary events.

Next chapter contains canon characters, guesses are welcome. Please tell me what you think about this chapter- **the best reviews are the ones that tell me what you liked/didn't like and ****why****.**


	2. Dreaming is How the Strong Survive

Chapter Two

Dreaming is How the Strong Survive

* * *

_Thunder rumbling, castles crumbling_

_I am trying to hold on_

_God knows that I tried, seeing the bright side,_

_But I'm not blind any more._

- Katy Perry, Wide Awake.

* * *

Although all the lemurs were friendly with her, Claire still hadn't named any of the others. The details of the cartoon was fading from her memory and Roxy, with her distinctive freckled ears, was the only one that Claire could be absolutely certain wasn't Momo. The emotional distance must have shown because Roxy was the only one who stayed with Claire everyday, even following her to bed while the others wouldn't unless it was storming outside.

"It's beautiful today, isn't it, Roxy?"

Her constant companion clicked her tongue in what might have been agreement. Claire pretended it was at any rate.

"I think I'll do the washing. And my hair. Again." It was hard to keep enthusiastic over things like that, even when her cheeks ached from the smile she forced onto her face. "Then I was thinking we could try weaving again, since we're not doing anything else with those stalks. I'm sure we'll figure out how to make baskets eventually."

Roxy ruffled her wings and accepted a scratch behind the ears.

"That last batch of charcoal came out well, didn't it? Probably not what I'm supposed to use the oven for, but it's nice to be able to draw again, even if its not scented gel pens." Doodling in her text books was about all the art Claire had willingly done in her old life but now, three months since she got the idea, Claire had covered much of the unmarked stone work in her room with doodles, song lyrics and fairy tales. It felt so good to express herself in that one small way.

Her hands were black almost constantly but they washed clean, so did the walls, so she could never run out of space like Rapunzel did in _Tangled_.

Somehow, the thought wasn't as heartening as it should have been.

"Well, come on, I'm not the only one that needs a bath!" Since Claire had just rubbed smudgy fingers all over Roxy's ears.

Their favourite pool was deep enough that Claire could sit with it up to her collarbone and stand with it to her waist. It didn't flow fast enough to wash clothes in (that bit was further down) but for now, Claire would take the time to soak so that her grit scrub would be easier on her skin later.

She stripped, hanging her orange robe, pants and underwear over a tree branch where they wouldn't get dusty. Most days she went bare foot now, since there wasn't anything dangerous to stand on after she'd cleared the weapons away. It felt nice to be civilised, but none of the slippers her size had survived and her converses hadn't been in the best condition when she fell into this world. None of the surviving monk-pants had been long enough for her either, but Claire didn't mind cropped and she had even sheered the legs off a few pairs so she would have underwear changes. _Totally have this survivor thing down now!_

As for her old clothes... Claire's bra didn't really fit her any more, even when she clasped it as tight as it would go, there was too much spare fabric for it to be entirely suited to purpose. Claire knew it had been the chips and Oreos which were keeping those last few pounds on her- goodbye cleavage, nice knowing you. Even her jeans fell off her now and her hips jutting out were anything but attractive. She still didn't look like a super model though. She would have to stop eating altogether to get to that stage. Skeletons with skin, her mom used to call them.

The water felt wonderfully cool on her skin and Claire focused on washing the charcoal dust from her hands before she scrubbed her face. Then she was free to float, her braids weaving like snakes as the water bobbed them and Roxy occasionally bumping into her side when the little mammal swam too close.

Watching the falls run down the sloping rocks gave Claire an idea and she sat up suddenly, Roxy squeaking angrily as she was unexpectedly drenched.

"Oooooh! I just thought of something," Claire gasped happily, picking her friend up and letting Roxy run along her shoulders and get the water out those large ears. "Elements can manipulate one another can't they- and air, air is really useful because it gets everywhere!" The blonde rambled happily, gesturing as she did so. "I mean, fires would be hard to blow out, but if it was a little flame I think I could do it... Oooh, and in the cartoon, Aang moved a really big rock with his airbending!"

Roxy glided to the shore and lay down in the short grass, but Claire had long since stopped needing an audience to voice her theories, or say anything really. "And as for water, I could create, like, a bubble of air in the water, or maybe fly it over my head... do you think I could make rainbows, Roxy?"

The lemur did an approximation of a shrug. Or that could just be Claire's imagination. She had been inventing a lot of things in her mind, lately, like Roxy with a voice and monks wandering the halls while Claire drifted off to sleep.

"Okay, I can do this." Claire breathed deeply, because if firebending came from the breath then surely airbending was even more so? She could create a little tornado between both hands now, not as compact as the one Aang used to spin the marble in that trick he did, but she was still proud of it and the many hours of work she had put into training herself in its control.

Using that technique, it was easy enough to create a little whirlpool which, once she found the best angle to move her wrists in, opened up a spiralling chasm in the water all the way down to her toes.

Roxy watched from the shore, content to observe the silly human things from a safe distance. Claire bit her lip and she tried to pull the rim of the whirlpool upwards.

The vortex destabilised, collapsing in on itself. "Oh, don't do that." Claire started the process again, spinning the water faster this time before tilting it and this time it held momentarily before falling over itself. "Need to get it higher..."

It took hours to make the air solid enough to lift the water over her head without breaking apart instantly and by that time, Claire's arms were aching. She didn't care though, there was so little these days which was fun, she was willing to put some effort in if it meant not being bored any more. These days if she found anything new and exciting to do, she would sap it of entertainment value in less than a week with overuse and she knew that had its own problems, but still, it was so nice to have something to _do_.

"Eeeeeee~!" Claire shrieked happily as she managed to get her water droplets high enough that they reflected the light just right, making a little shattered spectrum of light. "Did you see that Roxy? Wasn't it pretty? I have to try that again!"

Roxy lifted her head from where she was napping in the sun, snuffled her nose a little and went back to sleep.

"Oh fine, be like that, it was awesome and you know it! Though I really should wash my hair now..." It had half dried already, despite liberal sprinkling. A long rinse under the waterfall was the best she could do for it and it was easier to keep it in braids for that, since it got hopelessly tangled when loose and she only had her fingers to comb it.

She turned her back to the water and let the spray splash over her hair, the heaviest bit drumming a beat on her shoulders until they were pleasantly numb.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow~" Claire cleared her throat, gargled and spat into the plunge pool before trying again, stringing the notes out nice and long at a tempo even more sedate than the original. "Somewhere, over the rainbow/ Way up high / There's a land I heard of / Once in a lullaby..." She frowned, how did it go again? Straight to the chorus, right? "Somewhere over the rainbow / Skies are blue / And the dreams that you dare to dream / Really do come-"

There was movement out the corner of her eye, a lemur no doubt. There had been another birth this season, four little babies from the same mother as the last set. The tiny things were always getting into trouble but the whole gang looked after them, it was really sweet.

Claire shielded her eyes from the sun so she could better see the kits' antics. They were so cute when they frolicked about in the long grass, though their mother was too protective of them to let her close to them at the moment-

Not a lemur.

He was a teenager with dark hair pulled into a long tail at the back, the rest of his head shaved bald and the most intense eyes of any colour (molten gold in this case) that she had ever seen. He was wearing red armour which was somewhat the worse for wear, still functional but dusty and a little scratched, like he had climbed up the mountain in it (well, duh).

She couldn't stop staring at that angry red scar. It was so real, so unlike that two-tonal blob on the TV which she had seen an eternity ago.

Zuko stepped forward, torn between bewilderment and... anger? He sounded angry, though Claire had no idea what he was saying. The disappointment of the language barrier was barely a blip on her radar as her mind kicked into overdrive.

Trembles shivered up her arms and shoulders, her knees knocked together and her hands rose reflexively to cover her mouth before she forced them down. She _wasn't crazy_, this was really the Avatar world, she wasn't going to be forgotten here forever- from the looks of things she had even arrived long before the cartoon started!

She couldn't speak, couldn't move. It had been so long since she had seen another human being that it took everything she had not to launch herself at the boy and cry into his armoured shoulder. Her silence stretched on and the angry, questioning words got more clipped, the tone darker. She felt herself smiling, shaking her head in amazement as the falls thundered in her ears.

If he hadn't been angry before, Zuko certainly was now. Thin licks of flame were actually starting to curl out of his mouth.

Claire flinched.

He took another step forward and Claire remembered, remembered how mean and misguided Zuko had been in the beginning, how angry he had been at the world and how easily he let his temper get the better of him.

Holding her hands up in a sign of peace, Claire emerged from the waterfall.

Zuko's entire face blushed a brilliant red, because of course Claire was naked. Well, he looked about thirteen so no big deal, he was still a kid. She pulled on the robe and it clung to her body like a snake skin which refused to shed properly. While at another time this situation might have been sexy, now it was just embarrassing for the both of them. Claire hid her own flush behind a curtain of wet braids. Couldn't be helped and at least, she thought to herself, he wasn't shouting any more. That was a plus.

When she was belted up and as decent as she could get without pants, Zuko said something again and although some of the sounds were starting to sound familiar, Claire couldn't make heads or tails of it, or answer him for that matter.

She shook her head helplessly, wondering if it was too late to pretend muteness (probably, if he heard her singing earlier) and tried not to look like a scared child to someone who was one: years younger and two: at least six inches shorter than her.

A decision was made when fire started to curl around Zuko's fists. _Screw this, I'll wait until the Gaang gets here._ Aang would be so happy to find another airbender that he would take her with him even if she couldn't speak a word of his language. Zuko was likely to roast her if she even attempted charades with the mood he was in right now.

"Roxy!" Claire's friend took to the air, startling Zuko who had not spotted her near his feet. In that moment Claire drew on the wind and twisted, sending herself spiralling into the air where she landed on top of the falls and took off running, Roxy flying overhead to meet her.

Unfortunately, Claire had forgotten one important canon fact when she made her escape: Zuko hadn't met Aang yet. As far as Zuko was concerned, she was the only known airbender in existence. The only link he had to the Avatar.

She could run all the way to the North Pole now and it wouldn't be far enough.

* * *

_(Previously...)_

Zuko let the rope hang after pulling himself up over the final ledge and tried to catch his breath in the thin mountain air. He had taken that last precipice at a truly gruelling pace, outstripping his uncle who was more cautious in finding handholds and anchor points, not to mention giving his lungs time to adjustment.

If the old man wanted to waste time it was his problem, Zuko would find the Avatar if it was the last thing he did. The Southern Air Temple was the most inhospitable one yet, the air bitterly cold while also being the most difficult to climb. _He_ had to be here, there at least had to be a clue, Zuko had looked in all the others-

Deep breath. Exhale. He needed his wits about him.

The temple looked desolate and overgrown, the balconies and arches crumbing with disrepair and the scars of century-old fireballs and blasting jelly. It looked like no one had been here in a long time.

Except, Zuko noted the paw prints on the ground, for the animals.

He had to believe. His father wouldn't have sent his only son on a wild heron-goose chase after all. The Avatar _had_ to be hiding somewhere, waiting for the Fire Nation to drop its guard before striking.

What happened to the Air Temples (so eerily quiet, so dead) had been misguided, Zuko knew that. The death of one to save a nation, even a child- that would have been better than all this. If the other nations would only listen and lay down their arms, there could be peace at last but no, the stubborn barbarians would fight to the last man and wipe out everything they had worked so hard to hold onto. Where was the logic in that?

Zuko kept his footsteps light, casting his gaze over the balconies for any sign of life, though all he saw was the occasional bird or lemur. Maybe he should go back for uncle and they could search the temple systematically. Really, he shouldn't have taken his frustration out on Uncle by leaving him behind but it was just... too much emotion to keep inside of himself all the time and if he didn't snap and snarl, Zuko felt he would burn from the inside out.

He meant to turn back then, but the sound of water drew him onward. The climb had been harsh, on his throat as well as his hands, and his flask had run dry before they reached the top, so it only made sense to refill it for the return journey. Like he would only need to refill it once, because there was _nothing here_.

Zuko wondered when he started losing hope. Two and a half years, almost a hundred years in total without even a whisper of the Avatar, of any airbenders for that matter.

The river wound through one of the old gardens and he was surprised to find it had not clogged up along the route. It was obviously man made, a well furrowed aqueduct entrenched with smooth stones. They might stand here another hundred years or more before the current wore them away. Air Nomads had something to offer the world, once, but now all that remained of them was slowly decaying. How long would it take until airbenders were only myths, and people forgot there had been four nations to begin with, instead of only three?

He moved upstream, following the sound of cascading water where it should flow fast enough to drink from without sediment slipping in. Then he would go back for Uncle, who would surely have reached the top by now, even if he was being lazy about it-

Someone was singing.

Uncle forgotten, Zuko dropped into a crouch and followed the sound swiftly along the embankment, hiding himself in the long grass and among the few stooped trees that had migrated here from one of the orchards Nomads had been so fond of.

It wasn't a song Zuko had ever heard, neither the words nor the melody were familiar in any way, but the pitch was bright and clear. An odd style, but compelling nonetheless.

There were footprints here, human feet with high arches, longer than his own by a substantial amount but also slender. He wondered why he hadn't seen these signs earlier, but it could simply be that the person stayed away from the main courtyard, or hadn't been there recently enough to leave prints in the shifting dust upon the flagstones.

Given the size of those prints it was certainly a man who had made them... though the high pitch indicated a boy. Perhaps a eunuch? Zuko winced at the thought. Those Earth Kingdom nobles were almost as savage as the Water Tribe peasants.

Perhaps there were two people. A child and... the Avatar?

Sweat broke out in his palms and Zuko dared not breathe as he peeked over the sparse cover of the embankment.

'Tall' was the first word that sprang to mind. The body was distorted under a cascade of water as the man stood under the falls, pale hair (and how pale would it have to be, really, for it to be so bright when darkened by water?) hung about his shoulders and unlined face.

The song pattered away as the man held a hand up to shield against the sun, eyes blinking into focus before locking with his.

Blue. Like the sky.

Zuko didn't know when he came to be standing upright, only that suddenly he was lurching forward. This had to be him, the man bearing the appearance unlike any still of this world _had_ to be the Avatar.

Strong benders can live for centuries, the histories showed, some of Zuko's ancestors had lived well into their hundreds. Although his grandfather Azulon had passed away faster than expected and aged at an alarming rate, that had been due to illness. An Avatar was able to live even longer -just look at Kyoshi- they were the strongest benders after all, and who knew how young they stayed during the many decades of their natural lives. Surely- _surely_ this person could be no other than the once boy-child of this very temple some hundred years ago?

"Are you the Avatar?" Zuko almost winced at his own words and only his training for court held a neutral expression on his face, though of all the stupid, unsubtle questions to start with...

The man blinked, startled or confused and Zuko pressed his advantage, raising his _chi_ in preparation to bend until he could barely hold back flames as he spoke. "Well, are you or aren't you?"

It was disconcerting and humiliating that the Avatar wasn't even raising his hands in preparation to fight. Surely he could feel the energy Zuko was raising in preparation to strike. Had those scrolls been right then, were the Nomads all pacifists? Even after more than two years of knowing it, it didn't seem real. Fighting was unavoidable- you could only choose when and where you would fight, if you were lucky.

Still, the man made no attempt to answer. "Answer me!" That produced a frown and a downward twist of the lips (because Zuko was young, not stupid, there was no way to watch a body distorted by a waterfall so he would take what he could get to tell him the Avatar's next move).

The Avatar cocked his head to the side, as if assessing Zuko's worth, then shook his head with a mocking little smile.

He didn't even try to hold the fire back now and licks of flame curled from his mouth in an impressive display, the sort of thing which would have had him choking when he was younger but Uncle's Breath of Fire -so much more controlled than the displays of anger he had as a child- was the bottled fury of a firebender, controlled for warmth, fortitude and a show of strength.

The flinch was visible this time. Unbelievable. Were the Nomads really so passive? Is that why the Avatar had hidden here so long, without seeking vengeance for the death of his people?

Hands held up in surrender, if this wasn't a trick then Zuko had a chance of going home, of seeing his homeland again, have the chance to protect his people and show his father that he could be a proper heir. A worthy son.

Stepping out of the waterfall, all those dreams shattered. Zuko should have known, luck was for people like Azula and Zuko was just lucky to be born.

A woman. Zuko cursed himself for not seeing it before. The voice, the face- it should have been obvious but those stupid footprints and gangling form had thrown him off, he had seen what he wanted to see.

Zuko blushed crimson at the implications, as his brain caught up to what his eyes were seeing. _Oh,_ he thought, _so that's what a woman looks like under her clothes._

He turned away for a moment, _stupid, stupid! _but she hadn't vanished by the time he looked back, thank Agni, only pulled a robe from the tree- faded orange, a colour which none had laid claim to in almost a hundred years.

Wrapping the robe around herself, her weird hair (not only the colour but what she had done with it- only the Water Tribes wore such small braids in their hair) a banner of unnaturalness, Zuko asked a different question this time, his tone softer.

"What are you doing here?"

The woman only shook her head, backing away into the river again until the hem of the robe brushed the waters surface, slowly soaking its way up the fabric.

Something inside him snapped. "Answer me damn you, I know you're not mute!"

She rocked back on her heels before gathering herself, crying out the oddest arrangement of sounds he had ever heard before and suddenly there was something flying at his face. Zuko almost lashed out with fire, his fists already crackling with the weak flames he had called up with only the rigid tension of his body. Before he could do anything with them however the creature was already swooping away. A flying lemur, the monks sometimes kept them as pets, memories of his studies supplied. He hadn't thought it would be important before, barely a footnote in the books and scrolls Uncle managed to have smuggled out of the Fire Nation for him. Know thine enemy, he had thought, never thinking a lemur would have snatched his consolation prize away.

One twist, a twirl which was more dance than _kata_ and she had alighted the falls some eight feet above his head and taken off running. One simple, effortless motion and she was out of reach. Gone like the wind.

Zuko cursed, sprinting for the muddy slope leading upwards, but in his haste found himself scrambling up with his hands as much as his feet, trying to find purchase in the mud which had been wickedly sheltered from Agni's rays by the trees overhead. When he got his hands on that woman, that _airbender_, he was going to burn these trees to the ground!

The banished prince kept his mind on following the light-footed tracks she left and not on how her robe had clung to the contours of her body, or how it had flared up when she used the wind to carry her.

Zuko hated being fifteen.

* * *

Claire had never run so fast in her life, the trees passed her like a blur and before she knew it she was at the temple beneath one of the lower balconies. Another twist in the air (and the lyrics of 'Defying Gravity' rising in her mind like a guilty giggle) and Claire was under the shelter of stone arches and the statuesque gaze of past airbenders.

Zuko was pretty stubborn so it was probably best to hoard some food and wait him out... though he might raid the kitchen at some point so it wasn't a good idea to stay there long.

Two clay jars- one of nuts, the other dried fruit and berries joined a 'loaf' of disfigured bread in her arms. Then Claire set about deciding which bolt hole to settle down in, there were so many places to hide in this old place after all.

_Hmm... where can an airbender go that Zuko can't?_

Decision made, Claire set off to hide.

* * *

"I'm telling you, she was _right there_ in front of me! I didn't imagine her, Uncle!"

Iroh, who had found his nephew stalking the grounds, dishevelled and even more highly strung than usual, tried to placate him. "I am not doubting you, Prince Zuko, I only wonder how an airbender could have survived so long without the Fire Nation knowing about it."

"She must be the Avatar's daughter or granddaughter or something." Zuko continued regardless of his uncle's words. "He fled the massacre but came back. That is someone of his line, Uncle, I know she is!"

"Or a child from another line entirely might have survived. Nephew," Iroh broached gently, "it is not certain that the Avatar still lives. He could have died long ago. Remember, the next Avatar would be of the Water Tribes and it would not be difficult to hide such a child in a fortress of ice, far from prying eyes."

"Word would have gotten out." Zuko insisted, between clenched teeth, "those Water Tribe savages wouldn't have been able to keep their mouths shut."

Iroh sighed. "Perhaps we shall search the grounds first and then the temple? If there is indeed another person here, Avatar or not, then there is a good chance they will try to leave together."

The courtyards gave way to overgrown fields and a sprawling fruit orchard. There was little sign of human interaction with nature here, other than runs in the grass which could have been made by lemurs as easily as human feet.

Yet over the hill was another matter entirely.

Graves. As far as the eye could see. Mounds of overturned earth between every tree, covered with only a handful of seasons' growth. Some of them were only as long as Zuko was from the waist down. Children.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Zuko kept moving, his march only broken when an uneven formation forced him to move around the mounds.

"This place..." Iroh knelt beside a child's toy, some form of spinning top left as a marker, though he made no move to disturb it. "Fire Lord Sozin's degree was that this temple be left cursed by the bodies of the fallen. Untended, no rites spoken or spirits appeased. I never agreed with my grandfather on that account I must admit. However, these graves are Earth Kingdom in nature. No airbender would bury their fallen."

"How did they treat their dead?" Zuko asked, softly and subdued.

"The bodies were left exposed, the flesh was stripped away by birds, so that their spirits would follow and fly free." Iroh explained. "The bones, as I understand it, were kept for a time to bestow the wisdom of their lifetime on the new generations, like we honour our dead by cremating the ashes and keeping a fraction of them in urns. Once the bones were old and dry, they were ground down and scattered to the winds. Every component of their previous life free to roam."

Air Nomads, Zuko reflected, were _weird_. "But these graves are relatively fresh, if the Avatar dug these for his people he only returned here recently..."

"If it was the Avatar at all- and there is still the matter of the woman you saw," Iroh reproached, "Prince Zuko, until we know more I think it would be best to approach with caution."

"Because the Avatar will take offence?" After all, Zuko wanted to capture him, not send him on a warpath by hurting someone he cared about.

"_If_ he lives there is no doubt that he will want to protect what remains of the airbenders, especially if she is a member of his family, but there is another reason." The tone was unmistakably that of the Dragon of the West and Zuko felt his spine straightening reflexively. "There are two conflicting versions of airbenders, one being the tales of pacifist monks and nuns who lived in seclusion and peace. The other is the reason why my grandfather sought to eradicate the element of air from this world in a single day. Wind can create hurricanes and tornadoes, maelstroms and sandstorms- it is potentially the most destructive element of the four because air exists everywhere, even underwater to a certain degree. While you can separate any other bender from their element it is impossible to do so to an airbender without killing them. There is no such thing as a captive airbender."

"But... if they respected all life, surely-"

"Ah, but that is exactly it. They respected _all_ life and would do anything to avoid taking life. However they still respected their own lives and, above all, the lives of their students." The retired General swept an arm over the field of graves. "I would bet a lifetime's supply of rare teas that these teachers did not just stand down and let their apprentices be slaughtered. They fought back, Prince Zuko, as any living thing will when they are backed into a corner. To fight an airbender and hold him captive is like trying to keep a storm in a glass jar."

"And," Zuko noted dryly, "the Avatar will be even harder to pin down."

They walked in silence for a while, all eyes peeled for a flash of pale hair in the trees or a fresh print in the dirt.

Iroh knew his nephew's silences well. "You are planning something, Prince Zuko."

"I always have a plan."

* * *

Claire took a nap in the storage cupboard overlooking the stature of the monk with the really long sideburns in the third floor atrium.

It had been months before she even realised this place existed, a little cubbyhole twelve feet up and with barely the space to crouch upright without cricking her head clean off her neck. It was fine to lie down in and the door was a little shutter hidden by one of the pillars, invisible unless you knew exactly where to look or (like her) you found it after eight months of exploring every nook and cranny. Thankfully the spider-fly things hadn't come back since she cleaned it out.

Claire wondered if the children had known about this place, and the other little storage closets she had found after this one. Surely they did. Some even had wine or crumbling scrolls in them- both items that she didn't touch though for different reasons. This one had always been empty and maybe, just maybe, some of the little ones had known to hide in here when the soldiers came. If bison were being shot out of the sky maybe it was the ones that hid who had the best chance for survival?

Come to think of it, Claire hadn't found any bison bones. Either they were all at the bottom of the mountain or some of the bison (and their riders?) had gotten away in time.

That was a heartening thought and it mixed nicely with the dreamy half-awake state she was still in.

It had been a couple of hours now, Zuko must be furious. Claire stifled a giggle in her hands and tried not to sing for the happiness of it. This was just like playing hide-and-seek!

Maybe she should try to talk to him again, well, not that she had _tried_ the first time around. She had been naked and Zuko had been snarly, plus it was all so sudden! Claire had expected the Gaang to get to her first.

Oh snap, come to think of it, didn't Zuko got to all the temples with his uncle before the start of the series? It was in one of the flashbacks...

So... maybe the Southern Air Temple was the last on the list? He did go to the Western one first, which was the upside down one (did they walk or the ceilings or what? Claire had a hard enough time running up a little wall at a full sprint) so this Temple might the one after that, unless he went to the Northern Temple next...

"Well," Claire murmured, looking up at the thin shaft of light from the almost-closed door, "he doesn't look older than thirteen or so... it could be years before Aang, Katara and Sokka get here..."

Maybe she should name the other lemurs after all.

The other option was going with Zuko.

He had never been her favourite character, although she could see where he was coming from, that episode where he betrayed Iroh was just too horrible to watch (she hid behind a pillow for that one, every time she re-watched the series because she was weird like that, unable to watch the episodes out of order).

"Ooooh," Claire breathed, "but maybe I could change that. Isn't that what they call the 'Butterfly Effect'? A few little changes here and there... it's possible." It would mean getting out of here, seeing something new, being around real live _people_. The thought was both wonderful and horrifying.

She nibbled on a handful of nuts contemplatively before realising that something was already forcing her hand.

"I really need to pee..."

* * *

There was more than one graveyard. Someone had buried the fallen Fire Nation soldiers as well and although the helmets shone dimly atop their mounds without the individuality of the airbender markers, a similar bouquet of wild flowers occupied another vase in the centre of it all.

Both sides treated with equal respect. Could this be the work of one who had known the men and boys that this temple once housed? Could Zuko show the same courtesy to those who had slaughtered his kin as he could to the people cut down in his name? No, was the short answer. Either the Avatar was a idealistic fool or... the Avatar hadn't buried these people.

What evidence did he really have that the Avatar was back? Uncle was right, it might have been any airbender that got away. Just because there were no reports of an Avatar dying at the Southern Temple (though, Zuko supposed, the intelligence at the time might have been wrong about that), didn't mean that he hadn't been killed before his identity was discovered.

The Avatar would have been twelve at the time, that's how many years it had been since Avatar Roku died. He had been no more than a child, one who might not have even known he _was_ the Avatar; the traditional age of revelation was sixteen after all. If that were the case then the next Avatar might well have been born already to the Water Tribes... but surely the Northern Tribe would have revealed their gambit by now rather than leave all the fighting to the Earth Kingdom? If by some twist of fate, the Water Tribe Avatar had also met death early then there was even less chance of those bloated Earth Kings keeping that secret to themselves. The Fire Sages assured the royal family that no Avatar had been born on the islands or colonies so there were simply no other options.

_Ugh, I'm thinking myself into knots_

"Well, I think it is safe to say that someone has been here for a long while." Iroh dryly noted as they entered the main atrium and saw one of the blank stone wall panels flanking the murals of airbenders and their bison.

Zuko saw it too. "Like a prisoner marking the days until the end of their sentence." His eyes scanned the wall section covered with vertical lines, six strokes scored with a longer one through them. "Groups of seven... why seven?"

"More importantly, the number of them all together... unless there are more walls like this somewhere, then the person who made these has not been here a hundred years."

Uncle was trying to tell him something, but Zuko refused to commit himself to the alternatives. Not until he had definitive proof.

"Let's find the woman. It's time we got some answers."

Claire could hear them talking below and knew that Iroh and Zuko were somewhere on the first or maybe the second floor. It was one upside to the open plan living with high ceilings which echoed, though it was hardly the most accurate thing. She wondered how the monks had handled it, true the private rooms didn't carry noise like that, but it would still be loud in the corridors. Maybe they liked everyone to hear chanting and things? There was even a gong downstairs.

She felt terribly exposed when she sneaked out to... well calling it a latrine was a stretch. After kicking dirt over... it, having a quick wash in the river (and retrieving the rest of her clothes, thank you very much), Claire went back to the crumbling section of roof she had used to get outside.

_Oh no way!_ Claire resisted the urge to stamp her foot, especially since her grip on the shingles was tenuous at best. There were footsteps in the hall below her. One set... two? How had they managed to get to the top floor so quickly? Claire would have to wait until going back to her hidey-hole.

True, she had been considering revealing herself anyway, but she hated losing at hide-and-seek. (And maybe, just maybe, she was really nervous about talking to people for the first time in forever, especially people she only knew from a cartoon.)

At least Roxy hadn't followed her. Her friend was outside somewhere, not liking the look of the dark storage cabinet as a sanctuary.

Claire manoeuvred her back to the domed roof and settled into a crouch before carefully, _carefully_ dangling her legs over the edge. So long as she kept a firm grip at all times she wouldn't get vertigo.

Which one was it? Maybe it was both of them. Claire sneaked a peek around the wall, determined to go hide somewhere really good if it was just Zuko again.

_It's Iroh, by himself... what on earth is he doing? Oh, getting a tea pot out. He really is crazy about the stuff, to carry something like that around with him all the time and to start brewing at such an odd moment in an unfamiliar place. Maybe that's why he isn't with Zuko right now. His nephew's the type to storm off on his own at something like that._

It was interesting to watch, how Iroh set up fuel for a fire and used his bending to create a steady flame. The way he did it, Claire could really believe that the element possessed a little heartbeat.

So enraptured by Iroh's nimble precision, she forgot that this was only supposed to be a peek. Naturally, when the tea was brewed some minutes later, Iroh produced a cup from somewhere and set about delightfully drinking it. Claire was charmed by the obvious enjoyment, unable to help the smile which crept onto her face. A moment later it retreated when Iroh's gaze met hers over the rim of his cup, completely unsurprised to see her there.

Claire whirled around so fast she almost pitched herself off the roof.

Her heart pounded in her ears. _He knew! He knew I was there all along! Oooooh, that conniving old man, he seemed so sweet in the cartoon!_ Should she run? He wasn't following her or flinging fireballs, he wasn't going to hurt her and she... she trusted him, didn't she? He was a good character and she was so _lonely_...

Ears straining for the rustle of fabric, the tread of feet, anything that would indicate movement... nothing except the occasional slurp.

She chanced another look and saw Iroh sitting as demurely and harmlessly as before, tea cup raised like some kind of holy offering.

Should she?

Before she changed her mind, Claire took a leap of faith- literally.

* * *

**A.N.:** I hope I got Zuko's mindset down all right, he's such an interesting and complex character to write about and I find myself drawing upon real life historical cases (particularly in concern to Zuko's attitude to the other nations) and abuse psychology (whenever his father is mentioned, or Zuko makes concessions for him).

What I loved the most about canon Zuko was his development through the series. The last few episodes when we see the culmination of Zuko's development never fail to send shivers down my spine. (_"Growing up we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilisation in history and somehow the war was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was."_) However, as much as I love Zuko, he had a long character journey and I'm trying to be true to his undeveloped state at present. Think I managed it?

Also, I hope I gave a logical explanation why Zuko was searching for an airbender, rather than a Water or Earth-born Avatar after a hundred years.

Tropes avoided/used with intent to subvert in this chapter: _**Aliens Speaking English, Girl in the Tower, Shower Scene**_,_** Singing in the Shower**_. Probably a ton more but I think you'd rather I post this chapter than fall down a TV Tropes rabbit hole.

Special thanks to my very first reviewer for this story (the mysterious Guest Reviewer) who left me such a wonderfully long, detailed and uplifting review! My thanks as well to another anon (Random Person) who gave me some fantastic ballet background and tips for writing it in the future (I really tried to get into your anime rec but the romance plot was just too much for me). Gratitude also for Ka who left a wonderfully long review as well (seriously, you guy are spoiling me), to answer Ka's question, Claire _is_ lacking vitamin B12 without animal protein but the human body stores this and can run without it for a year or two without any adverse effects (a frutarian or vegan diet is impossible long term without supplements).

**Swing by my other fics if you haven't already, since they were also updated this month (**_**Two Steps Back**_**'s latest chapter is feeling very little love right now). **

**The best reviews ever are the ones that tell me what you liked/didn't like and ****why****.**


End file.
